


what we both want

by resuerre



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-05-10 02:05:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14727908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resuerre/pseuds/resuerre
Summary: So Nijimura sets his urges aside and focuses on guiding Akashi gently in the tempest like all good upperclassmen should.Nijimura’s been doing well so far with easing Akashi into it. He’d take Akashi’s head into his hand, kiss his temple and ask if he could continue.Akashi always lets him.(porn without plot?; nay, the porn is the plot; Rakuzan!nijiaka getting the sexies on, basically; each chapter has their own kink warnings, there are too many kinks to tag.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **plot warnings:** Nijimura is a 3rd year transfer to Rakuzan, Mayuzumi is there too, shush, because I love him I flunked him a year, Nijimura has sex?!? experience, from where?, maybe Amurica, up to your imagination, he can get down and dirty, real kinky, real fast, good luck Akashi.
> 
>  **chapter warnings:** sexy times galore, don't @ me saying that Nijimura is a manipulative asshole, he's just a tease, Akashi also is a tease, hell-- they're just one-upping each other at this point, brief mentions of intercourse, hand job, coming in pants, blow job
> 
> \--
> 
> Hi.
> 
> Uh.
> 
> Yes. I have the other fic, indeed, but see, 20k words in, I realize, despite writing an a/b/o fic, there are no nijiaka sexy times. None. Zip, zilch. I wrote the setting for the spice and now I can't even satisfy myself. Q: Why am I so self-denying? (A: Because obviously, Nijimura-san is a good alpha and won't bang Akashi senselessly, duh.)
> 
> So yes, the good news for the glitter readers: it's tooth-decaying domestic fluff. 
> 
> But if you're like me, a thirsty sock noodle, thanks for clicking. 
> 
> This one is for us. 
> 
> it's (what we both want) /winks with a badum tss.

Akashi is a busy person; student council president, captain of the basketball team, honor student, top of his grade and possibly the entire student body.

Despite his ever hectic schedule, there are two things he prioritizes above all else: basketball and Nijimura. Coincidentally, they come hand in hand. 

Their schedules are pretty much in sync, molded to fit around basketball practices and matches, so their weekends are as open as much as club activities would allow.

They used to go out on Saturdays, after club practice, mostly to a nearby arcade or a restaurant for the rest of the afternoon. But their dates were most often _not-dates_ when the others decide to tag along.

With Hayama slinging an arm over Nijimura’s neck, or Mibuchi floating behind Sei-chan without the intent of letting go, or Nebuya who just happens to be at their choice restaurant before they’re seated.

Privacy is indeed a rare luxury.

At least, Mayuzumi is always quick to dip out as fast as he does, but Nijimura can’t trust him. He’s reminded of Kuroko, same expressionless eyes and the visibility of 0. With such a lack of presence, the phantom player could easily tail them, watch them from Nijimura’s bedroom window, even.

(“I am offended you even think I'd waste my time on that,” Mayuzumi replies to Nijimura’s accusation, because Nijimura’s pretty much the only guy in the starting lineup that Mayuzumi dislikes the least.)

So Nijimura decides to take their dates indoors; mostly spent in Nijimura's half of the dorm, sprawled on his too small, twin-sized bed, watching movies on their laptops or just catching up on assignments.

Surprisingly, there weren’t much complications in making the arrangement happen.

For the most of the weekend, Akashi’s roommate takes a train home and doesn’t come back early enough to care about where Akashi’s gone.

Nijimura’s roommate stays the weekend with his girlfriend (living off campus), and doesn’t return until Monday morning.

Which means that Akashi can sleep in and slip out with ease, not needing to care about gossip spreading like wildfire.

Even then, if there _were_ questions about Akashi spending the weekend alone in Nijimura’s dorm, the fact that Akashi is a _busy person,_  buried with club paperwork that he wants to defer with Nijimura, is always the perfect excuse.

Thankfully, it seems there’s no need for such an excuse yet.

 

 

 

One Saturday night, Nijimura decides to do something different.

He decides to go off script, of just hugs and shallow kisses. He reels Akashi between his legs, hands playing with the hem of Akashi’s shirt, dry lips on the back of his neck. He can feel Akashi’s breath hitch when he nibbles his earlobe.

“Can I touch you?”

He knows Akashi long enough to pick up on his nonverbal cues, of the way his shoulders freeze just a bit before relaxing again. Nijimura also knows that Akashi, with the visage and reputation of _too cold to touch_ , is starved for such physical affections without realizing it himself.

There’s a long pause before Akashi responds by touching Nijimura's hands, placing his cool fingers against his knuckles.

It’s cold, as always.

Nijimura sees it as a fun experiment, a challenge. How to get Akashi’s icy skin to burn.

That night, he discovers that dragging his lips along Akashi’s neck and rubbing his palms down his sides worked the fastest with setting his nerves on fire.

 

 

 

Things escalate and it’s not a surprise.

After all, Nijimura is the type to push limits, the type to pull at his toys in childlike wonder of _how long_ until it breaks— and Akashi just lets him.

“Akashi, I want to see you,” Nijimura pants, stilling the movements of his hips, relishing the way Akashi’s body twitches underneath him, his knuckles on the sheets have turned bone white.

“No,“ Akashi mumbles, face buried against his pillow, twisting his upper half in a way that makes thrusting inconvenient, and uncomfortable. Nijimura re-positions them, pulls one of Akashi’s slender legs to fold over his shoulder, opening him wider to take him deeper.

Akashi has his face covered; Nijimura finds that he doesn’t like that.

Nijimura pulls Akashi’s arm gently, turning him over. Akashi keeps his face glued to his pillow.

When Nijimura pulls _that_ away, Akashi just latches onto something else and Nijimura rethinks his lifestyle choice to have so many cushions and blankets on his bed.

After a futile struggle, Akashi reaches and grabs his wrist, strangely oblivious to Nijimura trying to _get_ him to look at him. (He still doesn’t.)

“Nijimura-san, _faster_ , please—”

For as much as Nijimura wants to keep yanking pillows from Akashi’s grip, the redhead sounds irresistibly tempting right now.

And, Akashi did say please.

 

 

 

After three years of middle school pining, months of casually flirting, not-dating, _and then_ dating, Nijimura had imagined their first time to be something like mind-blowing, life-changing sex.

Which, since it was Akashi’s first time, Nijimura made _sure_ it was special—made sure the sex was just how he wanted it to be—slow, deliberate, passionate, _good_. But it wasn’t as good as Nijimura wanted.

Because, midway between kissing every inch of Akashi’s body and thrusting fervently into him, Akashi was a bit unwilling on some particular details.

Such as: he refused to lie on his back, insisted on turning away, hiding despite Nijimura’s encouragements against the shell of his ear.

Which frustrated him because he wanted to see Akashi, wanted to see his face when he came, wanted to see how beautiful he becomes when he’s vulnerable and raw.

Maybe Akashi is just shy.

Maybe it’ll take time for him to open up.

Nijimura just has to be patient.

Maybe.

 

 

 

Patience, is not one of Nijimura’s virtues, but he can definitely force it. He channels the celibacy of a thousand monks to keep himself from literally uprooting Akashi from everything he knows and forcing his way with him as all horny teenagers do.

Firstly, Nijimura is a gentleman— an ex-delinquent with a foul mouth and even fouler temper— but still a gentleman.

Secondly, Akashi is delicate. Inexperienced. Unknowing in so many ways. The forbidden fruit that Nijimura has to resist from devouring on sight.

He has to wait for him to ripen, savor him slowly, enjoy.

It’d be stupid to force anything on Akashi, to quickly rush him into unknown territory because the last thing Nijimura wants is to scare him away.

So Nijimura sets his urges aside and focuses on guiding Akashi gently in the tempest like all good upperclassmen should.

Nijimura’s been doing well so far with easing Akashi into it. He’d take Akashi’s head into his hand, kiss his temple and ask if he could continue.

Akashi always lets him.

 

 

  
  
Second time’s the charm, Nijimura thinks as he backs Akashi into the wall of his dorm. They haven’t made it past the genkan to even take off their shoes.

Idly, Nijimura wonders if Akashi would be conscious of the people walking outside in the hallway, but the other doesn’t seem to care. Akashi actually encourages him with a breathy _hurry_ , and doesn’t make a motion to move to his bed.

Nijimura fumbles with the condom and a packet of lube he’s had in his bag. He almost manages to lift Akashi’s leg up to his chest, press him against the wall and finally savor his expression, had not Akashi turn his back on him, rutting his ass against the tip of his cock, prompting Nijimura to take him like that without question.

Nijimura would have complained, really, he would have. But Akashi was poised rather nicely—slacks down to his ankles, hips rocking back desperately. It’s also not bad watching his cock sink past the impossibly tight ring of muscles.

When Nijimura rolls his hips and hits just the right spot, Akashi’s spine tenses as he digs fingernails into the wall and lets out a wanton, lustful moan.

Nijimura just thinks, _next time. Definitely next time._

 

 

 

 _Next time_ is robbed away by a dinner with the team, so Nijimura resigned to waiting it out until the next weekend.

He lived so long with only his right hand and his imagination for company when Akashi wasn’t quite his yet, so Nijimura can definitely survive a week since doing things on a Sunday has always been out of the question.

There’s that implication of _Monday_ hanging over their heads: an early morning practice they both have to attend.

Coach Shirogane’s sharper than normal eyes would quickly sense something was _wrong_. Nijimura could get a stern talking to. (It hasn’t happened yet; thank god.)

Or Nijimura could get kicked out of the club. (“You’re overthinking it,” Akashi tells him.)

But that Sunday, Akashi throws caution to the wind and asks if he could spend the night with him. Nijimura (eagerly) agrees.

Nijimura made sure to clear his bed of all obstacles. He left a pillow so it wouldn’t look _too_ unnatural, and the rest were folded up and hidden in his closet. He’ll just say it was laundry day; they’re in the wash, or somewhere else.

He also turns on the heater to keep Akashi warm enough so he doesn’t ask for blankets.

Thus, the night plays out the way Nijimura had orchestrated.

Without anything in the way, Nijimura finally gets Akashi on his back.

That one pillow Akashi had been so fond of is now tucked underneath the small of his back, propping him up so Nijimura can angle himself deeper.

Nijimura thinks he could try to be rougher with him tonight, just to see if Akashi likes it. He’s been gentle so far, maybe it’s time to change things up a bit.

But then, Akashi clings onto him, wraps his arms tightly around his neck, and breathes a rush of moans against the shell of his ear.

It short circuits Nijimura’s brain and embarrassingly, he comes too soon.

To make up for his lackluster performance, Nijimura licks a stripe of saliva up Akashi’s cock until he takes the head into his mouth.

He sucks him off leisurely, until he’s recovered enough to grab a firm hold of Akashi’s hips and slam himself deep into his ass, hard enough to make Akashi come from just that.

It’s a win some, lose some situation.

  
  


Despite their initial agreement of _no marks in obvious places,_ the morning after, Nijimura finds that there are purple stains along his chest, bite marks on his shoulders, and deep red lashes streaking across his back.

He’d have thought it was worth it but the sores lasted longer than the first three class periods, which meant uniform constantly chafing skin, and everything fucking _stung_ at contact.

Nijimura made the wise decision to come to the locker rooms early enough to change before anyone caught sight of his marks.

But during practice when Nijimura pointedly asked Hayama _not to clap him on the back, it fucking hurts,_ the small forward started to pester him about whether he’s back at it with his delinquent days. _Didja get into a fight? Didja, didja?_

Nijimura expected some kind of compensation for all his troubles, but Akashi was either very oblivious to his pain or refusing to acknowledge it.

After rigorous practice that left Nijimura half dead on the gym floor (along with many other casualties,) Nijimura is surprised that Akashi could play just as well as if the previous night never happened.

He wants to make a snarky comment about that because it feels like he’s the only one having a harder than rough time, but when everyone leaves them in the locker rooms after practice was over, Akashi openly collapses on the bench, exhausted.

“You all right?” Nijimura asks, carding a hand through Akashi’s damp hair. The redhead had just finished showering and Nijimura wonders how it is that Akashi makes the standard shower soap smell better on him than anyone.

Predictably, Akashi leans into his touch.

“Yes, just a little tired,” Akashi replies, closing his eyes. Akashi’s hair is still wet at the edges, and Nijimura thinks he does it on purpose. Despite knowing that, his brotherly instincts kick in and he fetches a towel to catch the dripping mess.

After a long, comfortable silence, Akashi inhales softly. “I have a balm for your scratches. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to hold back.”

Nijimura hates how easily Akashi could dispel his grievances. Now he has nothing to complain about.

“I’m fine,” Nijimura lies as he ruffles Akashi’s hair under the towel. “What about you, you seem to be holding up well after what we did yesterday.”

He hears Akashi’s breathless and airy laugh before he sees those red, ember eyes looking up at him. “Of course. It’s not enough to incapacitate me from practice.”

Nijimura feels like he’s laughing at him and his mouth twitches in annoyance. He lets the towel drape around Akashi’s neck, and he drags his fingers down the side of his head and to his jaw. “Do you have something to say about my performance last night?”

Akashi hums, tilting his head to allow Nijimura to press at the skin underneath his chin. “Only if you want me to.”

 _Cheeky brat_ , Nijimura thinks, holding Akashi’s chin in his hand, fingers tighter than usual. He tilts his head upwards, pressing their lips together harshly with the barest hint of teeth.

He bites Akashi’s lower lip and is rewarded with a breathy gasp and a weak grip on his jersey sleeve. Nijimura pushes his shoulder until Akashi’s back hits the bench.

They’re the only two left and there’s an unspoken rule to avoid the locker rooms if the lights were still on.

Still, it’s rare for Akashi to want to do anything— hold hands or even kiss each other’s cheek— outside Nijimura’s dorm room, outside of their not-so-secret weekend nights.

“You want to do it here? Now?” Nijimura asks as he roams Akashi’s body with unforgiving bites into his shirt, teeth scraping hard enough through the cloth for Akashi to feel it. “What if someone walks in.”

“No one will,” Akashi says, his eyes shuttering closed as Nijimura palms him through his jersey. His other hand squeezes Akashi’s backside, fingers dipping into the curve of his ass.

“Nijimura-san—” Akashi sputters as Nijimura pulls himself off and sinks to the floor, between Akashi’s legs, holding a steady hand on his hips.

Nijimura waits for him to catch his breath. Waits for something, anything, like Akashi’s sharp stare of _do not,_ and Nijimura would comply and back off.

Instead, Akashi gazes at him expectantly, eyes glossy, lips parting, and Nijimura figures that this is his silent consent to continue.

It’s obvious what Nijimura had in mind, with Akashi’s legs splayed on either side of him, and Nijimura licking the skin above his waistband. He’s rather enjoying the hitch in Akashi’s breath and the way his stomach ripples with sharp jerks and a light tremble. He wants to pull his pants down and swallow him whole.

Nijimura decides against it, content with rubbing the outline of Akashi’s hardening cock through his pants.

Nijimura bends over, pressing an open mouthed kiss on the flat of his stomach and then trailing up his abdomen to lick at slightly toned muscle.

Akashi’s hand tangles into Nijimura’s hair, and hazily he remembers he didn’t shower yet.

“Nijimura-san, do it properly—” Akashi breathes, annoyance prominent in his voice as his hips jerk to Nijimura’s grip, trying to get more friction. Nijimura tsks lightly, withdrawing his hand.

“No,” Nijimura says firmly, moving to sit on the bench again so he could hold down Akashi’s wrists with a hand. Akashi flails until Nijimura presses flush against him, forcing his legs around his waist.

Nijimura continues stroking him through his jersey pants, the fabric is flexible and form-fitting, and he drinks in the sight of Akashi twisting restlessly on the bench.

“Are you close?” Nijimura asks, breath gravelly, feeling his own erection tenting in his shorts.

“Yes, _Nijimura-san_ —” _More_ , he doesn’t say, straining his hips against Nijimura’s movements. Nijimura would have given it to him then. He’d give Akashi the entire world and more if he just asks.

But the thing is, Akashi doesn’t ask. He’s also rolling to his side, tucking his face into the towel near his head. This looks like it's the start of a bad habit.

Nijimura frowns at that, stilling his hand, half-tempted to swipe the towel away. But if he did that, Akashi would cover his hands over his face and Nijimura can’t wrestle that away one-handedly.

“My pants— take it off,” Akashi whines breathlessly, testing his strength against Nijimura’s hold around his wrists. It doesn’t budge.

Nijimura leans over and kisses a soft patch of skin near his ribcage. “Show me your face and I will.”

Akashi shakes his head.

All right. Then.

If that’s how he’ll be.

Nijimura purses his lips as he starts pumping Akashi’s erection underneath the fabric with a renewed pace and tighter grip. There’s no doubt the briefs he’s wearing is becoming increasingly sticky.

“Ah— ah— Nijimura-sa—” Akashi’s voice scatters and his breath scrapes his throat into a high-pitched whine. “It’ll get dirty— “

“I know,” he replies, dropping a chaste, soothing kiss onto the side of Akashi’s neck. He thinks twice about sinking his teeth there, leaving ugly, dark marks that the captain has no way of hiding the next day.

It’d give Nijimura a dark sense of satisfaction; a claim of possession of the otherwise untouchable and well-sought after Akashi Seijuurou.

It'd also give him a earful, probably a ban on sex for the next coming weeks.

Nijimura nips at his skin, teeth scoring lightly, before he traces his pulse point with a tongue.

He watches Akashi’s shoulders tremble as his body starts winding up and shaking with expectation of release. He’s close, dangerously close and his moans, breathy and needy, are escaping him, however muffled they sound.

Nijimura lets out a low growl as he rocks his hips against Akashi, rutting his erection between his legs with an erratic rhythm. The pressure is enough to ease the edge off a little, but Nijimura still wants nothing but to shred Akashi’s clothes to pieces and bury himself into his tight ass.

Nijimura does have something else in mind, though.

Right when Akashi breathes in sharply, muscles flexing under his flushed pink skin, Nijimura stops.

He slides his hand underneath Akashi, squeezing his balls gently, before pressing a finger deep into the curve of Akashi’s ass, pushing layers of cloth and finger _down._

Akashi stutters at the disrupted friction, eyes opening in the haze of quickly dissipating pleasure. Finally, he’s looking at him, although confused. “What?”

Nijimura doesn’t say anything, just smiles darkly before he lets go of Akashi’s wrists and uses both hands to pleasure him from the front and back. It doesn’t take long to drag Akashi’s consciousness under, to watch his eyes squeeze shut as he throws his head back against the metal bench, spine arching, pulled taut like a bow.

“Do you want to come now, Akashi?”

Akashi just nods at him, an arm thrown over his eyes. His lips are swollen, open and gasping. He’s beyond words, and it fascinates Nijimura how he can reduce Akashi’s eloquence into soft whines and wanton moans.

Nijimura figures that Akashi almost forgot he’s still clothed until he lets out a breathy _wait_ , and grabs Nijimura’s forearm. That wide-eyed look of surprise is rather rare for the redhead.

This is nice, Nijimura thinks, reaching up to lick at Akashi’s blood red lips, feel his breath against his mouth. Delicious, even.

With purposeful tugs, Nijimura ignores him and continues stroking Akashi until whatever he wanted to say falls back into his throat and he’s clambering for Nijimura’s shoulders with a vice grip that will be sure to leave more little marks on his skin.

Akashi comes with a startled cry, his voice becoming choked and raw. Nijimura feels his cock pulsing under his palm and he gives it a few languid pumps to milk out the rest of his orgasm.

“Stop, stop—” Akashi whines, weak and frayed, pushing at Nijimura’s hand to get away.

Nijimura obliges, letting go and running his hand up Akashi’s stomach to massage the damp and flushed skin there.

He presses a full kiss against Akashi’s mouth, drawing back as the other lays limply, basking in the post-orgasm lull.

Nijimura doesn’t need a third eye to foresee that Akashi’s going to be upset that Nijimura practically jerked him off in his pants. He’ll be disgusted at the sticky mess he made in his freshly changed clothes, but. That was fun.

10/10, would do it again. Teasing Akashi to the brink of sexual frustration could become a new hobby. Or addiction.

“Nijimura-san,” Akashi says after a long while, voice carefully neutral and composed, and there it is, _annoyance_.

Nijimura fixes himself, there’s still his own erection that needs to be taken care of after all, and he’s not going to let this brat scold him for the rest of the night about sex etiquette (as if such a thing even exists.)

“I know, I know,” Nijimura says, pulling Akashi’s pants and briefs off in a fell swoop and tossing them aside. He quickly scoops the younger male into his arms, feeling a bloom of satisfaction at the sticky white decorating his pretty red pubes and half-hard cock.

Before Akashi could say anything, Nijimura presses a chaste kiss against his mouth, sucking his upper lip with a wet smack. He starts carrying him to the shower stalls.

“I’m sorry.” Nijimura isn’t at all. “I’ll get you washed up and back to your room.”

Akashi considers him with a suspicious gaze before letting up and resting his head into Nijimura’s neck. If Akashi knew of Nijimura’s intentions, he certainly didn’t comment on it.

“Don’t drop me,” he says.

Nijimura pulls the shower curtain aside, the rings making a sharp shifting sound.

“Not planning to.”

  


Two words.

Shower. Sex.

At least that was what Nijimura planned to do but Akashi beats him to it.

Akashi may be inexperienced and clueless to the point of researching (googling) gay porn prior before their weekends begin, but he is the furthest thing from a passive lover.

Nijimura realizes this when Akashi pushes him into the moist wall, mouth hungry against Nijimura’s jaw. His hand wraps around Nijimura’s cock, pulling experimentally yet firmly. Nijimura lets out an approving moan, his hand grappling the other’s hip.

“Was that not enough for you?” Nijimura asks, unable to think past how Akashi’s hand feels nice on his cock.

“I’m only returning the favor, Nijimura-san,” Akashi says, planting a kiss on his collarbone, his secretive smile smothered away into Nijimura’s wet skin.

Akashi’s gaze is sharp and trained on him as Nijimura’s breath starts breaking into small gasps.

Look at them now, it’s a complete switch almost. Nijimura can’t even act surprised.

This balance of power was something that’s been evident even before becoming lovers. They deferred to one another equally, on and off the court, as captain and vice-captain then, now, as captain and power forward.

Although, sometimes, Nijimura thinks he’s more wrecked and played with than the royal emperor himself.

“How does it feel?” Akashi asks into his shoulder, looking rather pretty and entrancing under the rise of steam and downpour of water beading on his skin.

Nijimura grunts, voice coarse as he pulls Akashi close to him, hands on the small of his back and playing with the curve of his ass. “Feels good,” he answers, leaning down to capture Akashi’s lips to muffle his groan.

Their kiss doesn’t last long, not when Akashi pushes him away and meets his gaze with a tilt in his lips.

“I can do better.”

He’s about to ask, but Nijimura feels both of Akashi’s hands on his thighs, guiding them apart before Akashi slides to his knees, leaving a trail of kisses on his torso in his descent.

“Fuck,” Nijimura breathes, eyes widening at Akashi’s tuft of red hair as he makes his way to his erection, lips teasingly mouthing against the base. Nijimura shudders at the fan of hot breath before it’s replaced with an unbelievable warmth and slickness.

It takes willpower to keep himself from rolling his hips into the heat, to grab Akashi by the hair and fuck his mouth ruthlessly.

Akashi is new to this (Nijimura would be shocked speechless if he wasn’t) and it’s obvious by how terribly sloppy he is, teeth grazing his cock every now and then.

Despite that, Nijimura groans. “You’re doing so well. Keep going.”

A noise sounds in the back of Akashi’s throat in response as Nijimura weaves fingers into his hair, leading him to take more of him, to swallow him completely.

Akashi does try, but his mouth is too small for it. His eyes are closed as he concentrates on sucking him, head bobbing up and down, tongue swirling around the head of his cock. Fingers slide down the shaft that his mouth can’t reach.

It’s a beautiful sight. Something that Nijimura’s dreamed of when he hit puberty in the midst of nursing this puppy crush from years ago.

Akashi Seijuurou on his knees with his smart, small mouth wrapped around his cock. Nijimura takes the time to burn this particular feeling to memory, how slick Akashi’s tongue is, how his red lips are stretched around the head of his cock.

Nijimura is close and he lets out a string of curses, a warning, but it’s not long after that he comes, fingers holding Akashi’s head still as his hips jerk into the wet heat.

When Nijimura returns to his senses, he carefully detangles his grip in Akashi’s hair. His legs are boneless, but he pulls at Akashi’s arm, helping him up.

“It felt good, thanks,” Nijimura says, grinning a little because that’s one thing checked off of his bucket list. He’s about to lean in and reward Akashi with a kiss but he ducks away, lips pressed thin, shaking head.

Confused and feeling the residual flush of heat receding from his body, Nijimura takes Akashi’s chin in his hand, forcing him to meet his eyes. On closer inspection, there’s a dribble of white from his lips. Akashi’s eyes are teary and it suddenly clicks.  

This is Akashi’s first time giving a blowjob, and he’s probably learned what he knew from porn actors who glorified the idea of swallowing cum as if it was manna from heaven. When in reality, it’s tangy and has a stinging aftertaste.

Especially since Nijimura isn’t in the habit of eating pineapples.

“Spit it out,” Nijimura laughs, squishing Akashi’s cheeks gently. He’d laugh harder if Akashi didn’t glare at him helplessly and then—he swallows.

“It’s disgusting,” Akashi says, turning his face to the side as he scrapes the taste from his mouth with the water funneling down his face.

Nijimura takes this moment to pull him flush against him, resting his chin atop his head.

“I told you to spit it out. I wouldn’t be offended.”

Akashi shifts in his embrace. When Nijimura looks down, he sees his pointed gaze and a frown. “You always swallow.”

“I swallow because it’s you, but I also don’t hold it in my mouth for ages. It’s not a competition, you brat.”

Nijimura kisses the tip of Akashi’s nose and then his cheek. He brushes his thumb over Akashi’s hipbone before he squeezes his asscheek suggestively, but then Akashi bats his arm away, and there goes Nijimura’s fantasy of fucking him in the shower.

“We should hurry so we can eat dinner before the cafeteria closes.”

“Right,” Nijimura says blandly.

He had honestly thought Akashi wanted something more with the way he quickly sank to his knees, but apparently not.

Nijimura figures he still has much to familiarize about Akashi’s sex drive— if he has one at all.

Akashi resumes his usual composure, acting as if just mere minutes ago he wasn’t just sucking Nijimura’s cock dry. He gives himself one last scrub down before stepping out of the shower, saying that he’ll get the balm he had in his bag.

When Nijimura finishes his rinse, towel wrapped around his waist, he finds that his change of clothes are dutifully folded on the bench in front of him.

Akashi is in the adjacent locker room; Nijimura can hear the echoes of a duffle bag being zipped and the clatter of a chair.

He’s definitely wife material, Nijimura thinks and he’s about to say it loud enough for the other to hear until he realizes his boxers were _missing_.

“Akashi, you little shit,” Nijimura eventually says just as Akashi leans into the room, bag slung over his shoulder, a small ointment container in hand, and with the most carefully blank look on his face.

Of course Akashi wouldn’t think wearing sticky underwear as kinky.

Even Nijimura doesn't think it's kinky.

“You deserved it.”

There’s a hint of a smile in Akashi’s impassive expression when Nijimura numbly agrees, "Yeah, I probably did."  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay thirsty, my friends.
> 
> (also, I am becoming self conscious that my disgusting filth is on the first pages of this ship tag, someone please sprinkle some nice fluff to bump this sin down into oblivion, thank you.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings:** playing with his nipnops. : ), frotting, some sweet fluffy banter, Nijimura may be ooc, but he's just really in love. 
> 
> It's not so much a warning, but if it's not your cup of tea, please move along~
> 
> \--
> 
> Hello. It's me. 
> 
> Feel free to read these as stand alone chapters in the same verse; they can add to one another, but you can also completely skip it if it isn't a kink you enjoy reading.
> 
> Treat this as a nijiaka kink meme, and you can bet that it will escalate from here on out.
> 
> Worry not, the kinks I would never touch in my lifetime: public humiliation, other bodily fluids, netorare, rape (CONSENT!! IS!! IMPORTANT!!), blackmail, calling Akashi a whore/slut/bitch, no Nijimura is not that kind of person.
> 
> I'd say that it doesn't follow a specific timeline, but it does. One year is simply not enough for them to have copious amount of sex. Please don't mind the timeline. Thank you. I hope you all enjoy~

The sight of Akashi having a black sleeve peek from underneath his shirt steals his attention during club practice.

If it was anyone else, Nijimura wouldn’t give two shits if they showed up in a neon shirt. But Akashi— _Akashi,_ who always adheres to predictability and routine, is wearing something he hasn't before.

Call it his senpai’s intuition, or if you want to: a _crush realized_ , but Nijimura _always_ pays attention.

So, he wonders. Is Akashi wearing an arm sleeve or another shirt? Nijimura can’t help but puzzle it out, eyes straying toward Rakuzan’s captain constantly in hopes of finding an answer.

He hears the distant tweet of a whistle just as he realizes Hayama’s dead weight on his side and the rush of vertigo as a result from his fall.

“Ahh, sorry, sorry,” Hayama frantically says, sounding vaguely apologetic as he scrambles off him. Nijimura stares up at the gym ceiling, a little dazed.

Then— the apple of his eye.

“Are you all right?” Akashi asks, ducking down to look at him. He’s on the opposing team, wearing a red vest over his gray shirt. Nijimura feels a firm hand nudge between the hard flooring and his scalp. His head is pulsing. “You hit your head rather hard.”

It takes Nijimura a slow while to speak, mostly because his thoughts are scattered and hasn't returned. Also because Akashi’s skin is glistening with the slightest trace of sweat.

Akashi is so close, being so attentive, and if this wasn’t the gym, with the rest of the club crowding around him, he'd kiss him.

“I’ve been hit harder,” Nijimura grunts, sitting up and rubbing his head. It stings, both a dull pain and sharp stabbing in his temple. Akashi looks at him, not exactly convinced.

“I’m well aware of your unsavory past, but it still warrants a visit to the infirmary.”

Nijimura gets onto his feet, hands making its way to massage the back of his neck. “I said I’m fine. We still need to beat your team’s ass anyway.”

“Language,” Akashi tsks, turning away to disperse the more stubborn remnant of the crowd. He calls out to the first string. “We’ll take a quick timeout before resuming.”

“Sorry, man, I thought you saw me,” Hayama says, apologizing again. He pats Nijimura’s back comfortingly.

“Nah, I was distracted,” Nijimura says, just as his steele eyes track Akashi to the bench. Their captain starts searching for something before he, in an uncharacteristic show of disregard to his clothes, stretches the collar of his shirt and wipes away his sweat.

Oh? Did Akashi forget his towel?

“Is something weird about Akashi?” Hayama asks, stepping two steps too close into Nijimura’s space, as if doing so would help him see whatever Nijimura was seeing.

“No,” Nijimura answers, planting his hand on the side of Hayama's face and shoving him off.

There’s no mistake about it.

Nijimura saw what it was. Instead of skin, there was fabric.

It’s a shirt.

 

 

 

“I still think it's better to take precautions and visit the infirmary for a check up,” Akashi says, tapping the back of his pen on the table distractedly.

Nijimura glances up from his phone. He’s already washed and changed into the comforts of his lounge clothes. It’s nearing seven; the cafeteria closes at eight.

“And I still think you should make Mibuchi do his job as vice-captain, but you don’t, so we’re even.”

Akashi gives him a bland side-long look from his seat at the table. Underneath his hands are neat stacks of paper, and a whiteboard for strategic plays.

Nijimura almost wants to pull the paper from out under him, but that’d just keep them in the locker rooms longer. (Read: keep Akashi there longer, Nijimura just chooses to stay.)

“Mibuchi has to meet his classmates for a group project this week,” Akashi replies, returning his gaze to his lined notebook. Vaguely, Nijimura remembers needing to do that with his groupmates for literature class.

He shuts his phone off and pockets it away.

Bored, Nijimura lays his head against the table, careful not to muss up Akashi's mess.

This is very reminiscent of their days in Teikou; of late afternoons waning into early evenings, of losing the concept of time as they both immerse in conversations about strategy and training drills.

Nijimura doesn’t even remember how he’s managed to plow through all that paperwork. It was probably Akashi’s company that spurred him on. Akashi earnestly organizing everything so Nijimura’s short temper doesn’t get the best of him.

Akashi was always good at that sort of thing: making sure Nijimura’s fuse doesn’t split down the middle, making sure he doesn’t explode and take down a few casualties.

But here, Nijimura’s just a regular member, a starter, a power forward that gets swapped in and out for Mayuzumi at their captain’s command.

Akashi is the leader as he should be. He thrives in Rakuzan like the school was made for him and he finally walked in on it like an emperor reclaiming his kingdom. But his shoulders are slumped as he pores over the member list, his grace and poise have deteriorated over the course of the day. And in front of Nijimura, he has nothing to hide.

It makes Nijimura’s chest warm with a prick of pride, knowing that Akashi can shuck away his social graces and allow himself to be the littlest bit sloppy and spoiled.

It's just the two of them again. 

Nijimura uprights himself.

“Come here,” Nijimura says, scooting his chair back and patting his lap.

Akashi looks at him, incredulous, exhausted. “I’m not going to sit on—”

“Come.” Nijimura lifts his arm and that silences him from saying more. The tips of Akashi’s ears redden as he pushes his own seat back and drags his work with him, a foot or so, to Nijimura’s side of the table.

Akashi hesitantly sits on him, though doesn’t rest his full weight. “I’m heavy.”

“You’re not gonna break my legs like this, it’s fine.” Nijimura wraps his arms around his waist, squeezing lightly as he leans forward and rests his head against Akashi’s back.

It takes a bit of willful hugging but Akashi has relaxed enough to resume his work. Nijimura could feel the stress melting off his shoulders.

Akashi smells like apple-scented soap and very vaguely, like the sharp, sour tang of dried sweat. Nijimura has learned that Akashi doesn’t sweat as much as others do. Perhaps, it’s enough to make his skin clammy and give it a slight sheen, but he doesn’t drench his clothes like Nebuya does.

He doesn’t smell awful, but it’s faint. The scent is raw, dirty, arousing—

“Nijimura-san,” Akashi says at the hands wandering between shirt and undershirt. He clasps his fingers around Nijimura’s wrist. “I have work to finish.”

Work that Akashi shoulders as if he was meant to. The thought makes him frown.

“Pretend I’m not here,” Nijimura exhales into his shirt.

A pause and Akashi lets go, returning to his papers.

Nijimura has come to realize that Akashi’s patience wears thin by Thursdays. He’s starved by then, becoming more tolerating or even initiative of their risque antics. Akashi doesn’t even mind when Nijimura carefully bunches his gray shirt up to his neck, and begins touching him through his undershirt.

Nijimura recognizes the brand; its fabric wicks away sweat, releases heat. It feels cool under his fingers.

It looks good on Akashi, being form fitting and black.

The collar rides low and frames the prominent ridges of Akashi’s collarbones, ones that Nijimura decides to run his thumb across.

He faintly hears Akashi’s breath hitch.

A sharp inhale.

Akashi sorts a slip of paper to a stack on his right.

A slow exhale.

Nijimura presses a kiss against the base of his neck, nuzzling into the soft skin and breathing in his scent.

“Can I do more?”

“Do you have nothing else to do?” Which isn’t exactly an answer to his question, but there’s that unspoken _yes_ hanging in the air that Nijimura likes to interpret into a _do whatever you like_.

Akashi hasn’t outright said _no_ yet.

“Aside from you, nope.”

Akashi lets out a rush of air— a gentle laugh. Keeps writing.

Nijimura pulls him closer, accepting his weight on his lap. He has Akashi’s legs hooked over his thighs and Nijimura thinks this is also, a rather good position for a nice fuck. (Which, he’ll keep in mind to try later.)

His hands start to knead upwards on Akashi’s chest, feeling the curves and dips through the thin fabric. Nijimura starts dragging his fingers up, circling his pecs, catching his nipples and giving it an experimental squeeze.

Akashi jolts, just a little, his pen momentarily stopping in the middle of a kanji in their log book. Nijimura also pauses, and waits.

Akashi's hand starts to move again, scratching out the rest of his report and Nijimura resumes as well. He lightly rubs his fingers in circles above his nipples until they’re hard and Akashi’s skin trembles from it.

Nijimura pulls and rolls them, teasing them further through the mesh fabric, feeling the heat radiating from Akashi’s lithe body. If he listens hard enough, his breathing is ragged and disrupted.

Akashi is starting to feel it, with the way he slumps forward onto the table, balling his hands into fists, his pen held tight in his hand. His breath coming out in small puffs of air.

Doesn't look like he’s getting any work done, but Nijimura is unrepentant. He licks Akashi’s neck, tasting the salt of his dried sweat.

He’s mercilessly kneading his nipples now, alternating between flicking his thumb over them and pinching them. It’d be nice if he could get Akashi to moan, but he’s always been the silent, gasping type.

Shit, now Nijimura wants to suck and bite on them. He wonders if Akashi would moan from that. The imagery ignites a low burn between his legs. No doubt Akashi can feel him hardening in his sweat pants.

Nijimura would be embarrassed if he didn’t glance down to see a very obvious outline in Akashi’s gym shorts. His head has fallen down to his chest, heaving quiet breaths.

Akashi is aroused from just having his nipples played with. How cute is that. Nijimura knows Akashi is sensitive, but to what extent? Could he get him to come just from teasing him?

His curiosity will kill him some day, if Akashi doesn't slaughter him first.

"Akashi, you should hurry up so we can get dinner," Nijimura hums and bites his earlobe.  

Nijimura stops when Akashi drops his pen against the table with a clatter; did he push too far?

“We’ll buy something from the store,” Akashi says finally, turning his head at an angle. His eyes are half-lidded, lips parting invitingly. Nijimura leans to give him a kiss.

“You need to finish your work, Captain,” Nijimura murmurs, nipping on his lower lip, though Akashi’s eagerness prompts him to touch all over, impatient hands massaging his trembling body but never dipping further past his shorts.

“I’ll finish it tomorrow morning before practice starts,” Akashi manages to say, all in a breathy voice as his body shakes with effort.

Nijimura has begun to grind his hips up into the other’s ass; it’s hot and inviting. Akashi could get fucked this way, with Nijimura’s arms hooking underneath his knees, pulling him up and slamming him down.

He’s heard that the angle from behind is pretty good, hits the sweet spot quite nicely. Maybe it'll make Akashi scream.

Akashi draws a knee up and struggles to turn around. Nijimura lets him; friction is better this way and Nijimura can’t keep rutting between Akashi’s asscheeks forever.

“I haven’t showered yet,” Akashi mumbles in between kissing him, tongue wedging past his teeth and seeking out Nijimura’s tongue. He’s come a long way with kissing, having learned from Nijimura. From shy kisses to overly dominating ones, Akashi is pretty good at unraveling Nijimura by the seams.

Nijimura is quick to have his hand between their heating bodies, pushing down pants and boxers to free their swollen cocks. Instinctively, he rolls against Akashi’s dick, hissing at the friction; it’s hot and it’ll get messy but Nijimura doesn’t mind taking another shower.

“Give me your hand, Akashi.”

Akashi obliges and Nijimura wraps their hands around their cocks. There’s a large difference between their skin temperatures and Nijimura marvels at how cold Akashi always seems to be even as they do something like this.

They start slow, pumping their cocks together, slicking precum over their shafts. Akashi’s eyes has fallen closed as his forehead rests on Nijimura's shoulder.

With his free hand, Nijimura roams Akashi’s body, smoothing down the shudders between his shoulder blades, pressing against the flat of his stomach, and up his chest to his nipples.

Akashi is still clothed, with both layers, so Nijimura pushes up the black shirt. He's pleased that the shirt easily stays where his collarbones are.

He looks hungrily at Akashi's nipples, hard and flushed dark pink.

Nijimura licks his lips, and trails his tongue along Akashi’s neck, leaving wet, suckling bites, but not enough to leave marks.

He realizes quickly, that it’s difficult getting an angle while sitting on a chair.

“Sorry,” Nijimura grunts as he stills his hand on their cocks and hoists Akashi off him. He pushes him back into the table, scattering all of Akashi’s neat papers and stacks.

He’s going to get an earful, but Nijimura is at least considerate enough to push aside what he could to keep the papers from crumpling, though some are pressed underneath Akashi’s back.

Akashi doesn’t seem to notice though; he laces an arm around Nijimura’s neck and pulls him closer for a kiss. Nijimura humors him, but not for long.

He drags his teeth down his neck, skips over the bunched fabric, and heads straight to Akashi’s nipples, lapping at them with his tongue. He hears the break in Akashi’s breath, a slight guttural whine and he knows he’s hit bingo.

Quickening the pace of their hands, Nijimura can feel the muscles in Akashi's body tightening, winding up as he readies for relief. Nijimura also feels like he's at that crest, the addictive heat between them and Akashi's soft moans coaxing him on.

Nijimura pinches a nipple between his teeth and flicks his tongue over the nub. Akashi arches his back at that with a needy moan, pushing himself further into Nijimura, giving him more access as his free hand continues rolling the other nub between finger and thumb.

He gives it a particular hard suck, tongue lapping repeatedly over the small nub, and feels Akashi's chest rumble from that. Who knew he'd like having his nipples played with like this.

“Fuck, how are you so sexy,” Nijimura growls as Akashi's hand cards into his hair, lightly gripping as he moves to the next nipple, rolling in between his teeth, wetting it with his tongue. Akashi gasps at that.

“Ni-Nijimura-san,” he cries, his skin shaking and muscles collapsing on itself. Nijimura leisurely licks him, pinching it between his lips and tugging it back. “It hurts, stop—”

Nijimura would love to continue, but when Akashi commands, he obeys— though, he sneaks one more gentle lick as an apology.

Their hands have found a particularly good rhythm, and Nijimura's hips jerk to it as he feels himself getting closer.

It’s not long before they come and Akashi drags him down, pulling Nijimura flushed against him with a searing kiss.

Against the flat of his stomach, Nijimura can feel their cocks pulsing as cum empties out between them.

Nijimura shudders as he lets out a throaty moan, closing his eyes to the pleasant thrum coursing in his body.

As he waits for his breathing to steady, he drops kisses Akashi's neck and shoulder, breathing him in deeply, relishing the scent of sweat and sex.

Nijimura trails his lips down, peppering sweaty skin, tongue flickering out to lap at his nipples again— Akashi flounders, hands pressing against Nijimura’s shoulders to push him away.

He’s a little disappointed that he has to stop, but Nijimura draws back, lips slanted into a grin as he gazes at Akashi’s face. It's flushed red and sticky with sweat, it's a good look.

“Time for a shower?”

Akashi makes a face, noticing the splatter of cum between them. “I think that would be a good idea.”

Nijimura places a kiss between Akashi’s pecs and moves to upright him against the desk. He hears the gratuitous rumple of paper peeling off Akashi’s back.

Well.

They’re gonna have to somehow smooth those out. Akashi looks a little peeved at the wrinkled paper, but it’s nothing too alarming that would warrant Nijimura to dive to his knees and beg for forgiveness. (And plus, he _did_ apologize beforehand.)

If Akashi said Nijimura handled them, Coach Shirogane would accept it as so.

Nijimura watches him fix himself, pulling up his shorts and taking off his shirts. He wouldn’t wipe himself down with his clothes, no matter how dirty they are and how they’d end up in the laundry by the end of the night. It makes little to no sense to Nijimura, but at least he can appreciate the view.

The splatter of cum on his chest makes Nijimura feel smug, the pinker than normal nipples standing pert and red makes him feel like a million yen.

Akashi notices Nijimura’s lingering stare.

“I wasn’t aware you had a certain fetish, Nijimura-san.” He's neither smiling nor frowning, but that slight crease in his eyes hides secret amusement.

Nijimura blinks innocently. “I don’t.” And he doesn't.

To be fair, if there _was_ a fetish, it was probably an Akashi fetish. Though he’d rather die before telling Akashi that.

Nijimura pulls off his own shirt, assessing the damage. It’s white so it's not too terrible if he wipes it down. He could probably get away with wearing his jacket over it.

“Look at what you've done, it's swollen,” Akashi tsks, frowning and wincing as he gingerly touches the stiff nubs. Akashi's body is sensitive, maybe he doesn't even know that himself.

“Need me to kiss it better for you?”

Akashi brushes past him in lieu of rolling his eyes. Though Nijimura could _feel_ it when he takes his bag from the bench. “Thank you for your generous offer, but I’ll have to decline. You'll just make it worse.”

Which is true. Nijimura, for all the self control he likes to think he has, doesn't have any when he's given the free reign to _tease._

“Fair enough,” Nijimura says with a light shrug, and follows Akashi to the shower.

 

 

 

Clean and considerably less horny than he's been all week, Nijimura takes a walk with Akashi to the nearby convenience store.

Cleaning up has taken more time than he thought, and by the time they reached the cafeteria, it was closed off with a sign and the cleaning ladies shot him a dirty look. And while Nijimura does have enough food in his fridge to cook something simple, he's already exhausted his energy during practice— and other… activities.

“It seems like the perfect weather for oden.” Akashi sniffs in the cold air. The wind makes it worse, but it isn’t as cold as it was starting spring.

“Too bad for you, you'll have to wait till fall,” Nijimura says, keeping an eye on where Akashi is stepping on the rocky, unpaved walk path. Akashi isn’t one to gracelessly fall, but still, he’s not watching where he’s walking.

“I don’t see why they can’t have it now, it’s an appropriate choice for cold weather. Not to mention it has many different varieties.”

“They're all made of fish paste though.”

Akashi snorts, “They are not. There are tofu and daikon, some meats, as well.”

“Of course, _tofu_. You’d marry it if I wasn’t here to stop you.”

Akashi gives him a look, a quirked brow, and then lets their conversation slide into a comfortable silence.

If this was Akashi's idea of a small talk to fill their fifteen minute walk, it's cute.

Despite the natural leader he is, Akashi likes to hang in the back, quietly, contemplatively, among his peers from both Teikou and Rakuzan. It’s a habit of his, to watch them and soak in their ridiculous antics until Nijimura drags him in to join in on it.

Recently (and from Nijimura influence!) he's been attempting casual, meaningless banter.

Nijimura doesn't mind it either way— comfortable silence or Akashi's musings about what to eat. As long as he’s with Akashi, he couldn’t wish for anything else.

“A meat bun also sounds delicious,” Akashi speaks up again.

They turn into a path that's relatively deserted and dimly lit, save for a few pockets of light from the golden street lamps dotting down the street.

Nijimura feels Akashi's cold fingers touching the palm of his hand.

“That's not enough for dinner. Try something else.”

Nijimura laces their hands together, squeezing instinctively to warm him.

“Two meat buns.”

“Make it five and I’ll let it go.”

“Five is too much; at the most, I’ll be able to eat three, and a packet of tofu.”

“And there you were today at lunch, lecturing Hayama about healthy eating habits.” Nijimura rolls his eyes. “Where are your vegetables, Akashi-sama?”

Remarkably, Akashi’s facial expression remains blank. “I’ll forego healthy eating, just for tonight. I’d like to try it once: Nijimura-san’s lazy day.”

“Eating meatbuns and tofu is not the same as cup ramen,” Nijimura says, unimpressed. Akashi won’t fall to awful eating habits just from this; especially not when he was the reason Nijimura remodeled his _lazy day_ from eating instant food to store-bought bentos.

“What's your obsession with meat buns, anyways.”

Akashi leans into his shoulder, strangely bold given how they were out in public, but there's no one around. Maybe it’s the cold making him clingier. Either way, it’s nice to have him leaning on him.

“You may not remember, but the first time I've eaten such a thing was when you bought it for me.” Nijimura remembers; he also remembers how he's secretly wished on it, praying Akashi would fall madly and deeply in reciprocation.

Nearly three years later, they're walking hand in hand. Thank the power of meat buns.

“It was rather memorable and delicious,” Akashi hums. “There was that and many other things. I always enjoyed trying whatever Nijimura-san bought for me.”

He feels his heart thud purposefully, loudly. It's so massively unfair how Akashi can be so straight faced and still be able to say that.

“If this is an elaborate plan to make me buy you dinner—” Nijimura starts, meeting Akashi's pretty red stare and deceptively coy glance. He wills himself to look away. “ _Fuck_ , it's working.”

Akashi tugs on his arm with enough force to jolt Nijimura downward. On his cheek, Nijimura feels a chaste pair of lips before he’s let go.

They've returned to the main road and there's a cluster of school mates sidling up the path. Damn, he wished they held hands longer.

“If you do, I will return the sentiment by giving you dessert.”

Nijimura makes a face; he's not a large fan of sweets and chocolates. Akashi knows this. “Don't waste your money on buying me sweets.”

They've made it to the front doors of the convenience store and Akashi gives him a bemused look.

“I didn't say anything about buying you sweets. You don’t have a sweet tooth after all.”

“Then what do you mean by dessert.” He watches Akashi pull open the door.

“Fellati—”

Nijimura quickly crowds him through the door so that the people walking out don’t hear it.

He hisses at Akashi, something unintelligible about saying such things in _public—_ Jesus, Akashi is definitely doing it on purpose _._

When he finally drives him to the bento corner of the convenience store, Nijimura grumbles.

“Anyone ever tell you, your sense of humor is _shit._ ”

“I’m well aware,” Akashi laughs, amused at the way red plumes on Nijimura's cheeks.

God help him, Nijimura wanted to stay mad at him, but he still buys him his three meatbuns anyways.

And that stupid packet of tofu.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there is a particular kink you would like to see, I'd love to hear it. (But please be courteous and leave a comment first.) 
> 
> Let's fuel our thirst together. I'm sure I can write 9172912 words on just porn alone. I'm disgusting. 
> 
> Anyways.
> 
> Stay thirsty, my friends.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings:** riding, barebacking (no condoms), dirty talk lmao
> 
> \--
> 
> In time for Nijimura's birthday! (Sort of.)
> 
> It wasn't as sexy as I wanted it to be, but oh wells... I try. (:3
> 
> I hope you enjoy it~

Akashi is prideful, that much is obvious. And as much as Akashi could respect and adore Nijimura to the moon and back, there’s his god complex that is unshakeably the ugly product of his upbringing.

Many people cave under Akashi’s commands. Nijimura being an exception and possibly the only one that takes pleasure with digging underneath Akashi’s perceived perfection, teasing him mercilessly without fear, ruffling his feathers until Akashi glares at him to  _ really  _ stop.

It’s mostly because Nijimura likes to play with fire and doesn’t mind being burned. But it’s also because when he wants something, he  _ wants  _ it.

And Nijimura very clearly wants to see Akashi utterly destroyed and wrecked underneath him, gasping, crying, begging for pleasure or relief.

Several years ago, when he frequently recolored Haizaki’s face black and blue, gave Kise and Aomine matching lumps on their heads, Aomine wailed and called him a dominating sadistic freak.

Nijimura huffed at them then, calling it discipline and a form of tough love, but now. 

They’re probably right. 

 

 

 

“I thought you’d be smart enough to wrap it with a towel at least, but I didn’t expect this,” Akashi says. His words are as sharp as the sting in his ribs when Akashi dabs ointment purposefully on a bright red patch of skin.

“Yeah, I didn’t think it’d be  _ that  _ bad,” Nijimura mumbles, hissing through his teeth. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing he’s agreed to, but being with Hayama makes his IQ drop, apparently.

Akashi glances up at him, eyebrow quirking in disbelief. “Not bad? Ice burns can permanently damage your skin tissue if you aren't careful.” His voice drops into a quiet whisper as his eyes return to the palm-sized burn on his skin. “Kotarou must have stolen ice packs from the infirmary.” 

Nijimura tenses when he watches Akashi’s jaw tightening. There’s always something uneasy about Akashi when he lets slip with first names.

First names usually symbolized familiarity, intimacy. But there’s a hidden warning in Akashi’s voice, a threat. Subjugation.  _ Kotarou _ is definitely going to wish he was dead before Monday.

Shifting his weight on his bed, Nijimura reaches a hand to flick Akashi gently on the forehead. (He’s been told his  _ gently _ leaves stinging red marks for hours.)

That quickly resets Akashi, and he loses the growing murder in his gaze. He rubs his forehead with narrowed eyes, which deceptively held less malicious intent in them. Good, back to normal.

“Relax. Hayama was just trying to help; he seriously thought I got knicked in the chest somehow.”

Nijimura really didn’t have it in him to sit the small forward down and explain to him that they were just hickeys. Hickeys from an overeager Akashi who couldn’t wait for the weekend.

Telling Hayama the truth would just open another unwanted can of worms. He’s already been pestered enough about “going blonde and delinquent” again.

Akashi considers him and then resigns, eyes reverting back to its soft, red gleam. There’s the faintest touch of heat on his cheeks, but it’s gone quickly when he turns back to his first aid kit.

“Please avoid entertaining Hayama for the sake of being polite. God knows how many antics he’ll drag you in.”

Akashi takes out the gauze pad and a roll of tape; Nijimura watches him neatly bandage over the searing splotch.

The late afternoon is creeping into the evening. By now Nijimura would have kissed Akashi senseless, have him on the bed with his shirt hiked up his chest. Instead, Akashi is still very much clothed and cleaning up the mess of bandage wrappers.

It’s a disappointing turn of events, but Nijimura can be a very, very patient man.

“So, what are captain’s orders?” Nijimura asks, carefully laying back against his pillows when Akashi was done. He tosses his discarded shirt onto the floor; it’ll be less painful without fabric chafing him. “Movies? Or homework?”

Akashi looks at him thoughtfully.

“Please don’t say homework,” Nijimura adds when a spark settles in Akashi’s eyes.

“I was thinking,” Akashi starts, sliding up next to him. He pauses, mulling over his next words.

“You’re always thinking,” Nijimura counters, waiting, watching. There’s isn’t a smile on Akashi’s lips yet, and as seconds drag, Akashi’s face becomes unreadable.

“May I try something?” Akashi finally asks, looking entirely serious that Nijimura’s mind wanders to fill in the void—try what? Try watching boring historical documentaries? Try a horror film? Try doing Nijimura’s homework for him? (Fat chance.)

In the end, Nijimura realized he's been staring at Akashi and left his question hanging that Akashi adds, “You don’t have to do anything.”

“Uh, sure.”

Nijimura sounds entirely worried, and he is. Picking up on his tone of voice, Akashi finally smiles, although secretly, and he slides off the bed, first aid box in hand.

“It’ll be fine.”

And with that, Akashi disappears down the corridor leading to the entrance of his dorm.

Nijimura is still worrying.

  
  
  


Nijimura had learned very early on that Rakuzan dorms has sound proof walls.

It was mostly by accident that he figured it out, having turned his laptop volume way too high at three in the morning. The sound of explosions and rattling machine guns certainly could shatter windows.

When he went to responsibly apologize to his neighbors, they just patted his back, saying that the walls were built to ensure that those living within it do not have their study or sleep easily disturbed.

Ha.  _ Study _ .

That said, Nijimura feels like a blanket has been pulled over him.

With the door to the main room closed, Nijimura can’t hear anything.

Did Akashi leave? Did he go back to his room to find whatever it was he wanted to watch?

Or did he go to the bathroom? Maybe indigestion problems (unlikely.) 

It’s been well over twenty minutes since Nijimura started rolling on his bed in silence. He’s a little tired, a bit disappointed (but patient!), and Nijimura closes his eyes listening to the quiet hum of the heater.

He nearly dozes off before he hears the overhead light switch off, and he thinks  _ burgler _ before he hears the familiar soft thuds of Akashi’s feet on the wooden floor. It quiets when he steps onto the rug.

A click, and a golden glow from his desk lamp softly brightens the room. 

“Had trouble finding what you were looking for?” Nijimura mumbles sleepily, turning over to his side. He flinches when his bandage brushes against his ice burn. Cracking open an eye, he sees Akashi kneeling on the floor, holding— what the fuck.  _ More pillows. _

On top of a spare futon that Nijimura’s sure Akashi carried from his own room. The implications make him frown, “Akashi, you know you can still sleep with me, I’m not  _ that _ injured.” 

Akashi is lining up his makeshift bed with his pillows, fluffing it a little before he starts snagging some of Nijimura’s many cushions. 

“Of course, I’m still sleeping with you. I’m making room,” Akashi says. The sight is fascinating almost, Akashi placing pillows strategically, meeting corners to corners.  

“Come here,” Akashi says, not looking at him, and Nijimura slides down his twin bed and onto the futon atop the rug. 

“Are we building a pillow fort? Cus, I mean, I don’t mind at all, but we’re gonna need a hell of a lot more pillows for that.” 

Akashi rolls his eyes. “Nonsense, I’m simply making it more comfortable.” 

Well,  _ that  _ answered nothing, nor did it give Nijimura an inkling to what’s going on in that brain of his. 

Akashi prompts him to shift over with a nudge of his cold fingers on his forearm. Nijimura scoots, giving Akashi room to stack more cushions.

Here’s a question: how many pillows does it take for Akashi to get comfortable?

Nijimura starts counting, not paying attention to whatever Akashi is doing by his side. Probably fluffing up more pillows.

Akashi and his strange pillow addiction. 

There’s quite a few straggling cushions near his leg, so he counts that too. It’s about five large pillows and three smaller cushions, he’s about to put five and three together before his thoughts are interrupted by a freakishly cold pressure on his shoulder. 

Nijimura’s eyes widen when he falls, his back hitting something ice cold. He hears a small hiss of air as it gives way under his body.

Nijimura blinks several times as a very pleasant weight settles on his lap.

Akashi just pushed him down.

Akashi is straddling him.

Akashi’s legs are bare. When did that happen.

When he leans over Nijimura, inspecting his gauze with careful fingers, his shirt rides up his back and Nijimura can see the sliver of  _ butt _ .

Akashi’s ass is bare too. 

Akashi’s lips look inviting. They’re parting and he’s saying something that Nijimura can’t quite hear over the flurry of heartbeats in his ears. It takes a long moment for reality to sink in, because Nijimura didn’t expect this of all things, and he hasn’t breathed since Akashi pushed him down.

And now he’s— Akashi is kissing up his torso to his neck, slow and precise as he always is. His hands roam Nijimura’s body, pressing firmly, curiously exploring the curves of his muscles and Nijimura lets him.

After lightly nipping his adam’s apple, Akashi starts his descent back down his abdomen, careful to avoid the patch on his ribcage.

Come on, Shuuzou,  _ say _ something. 

He scrambles to distract himself. His voice comes out hoarse. “So, no movie then?”

Akashi glances up at him, and then at the laptop Nijimura had on the floor near the bed.

His pointed gaze returns to Nijimura and he blinks slowly, like how a regal cat does to his pet human.

“ _ You _ could watch a movie if you want,” Akashi answers, before he ducks his head to trace Nijimura’s abs with his lips. The golden glow of his lamp makes Akashi’s red hair twice as vibrant.

Nijimura watches him move off his lap and between his legs, shifting lower and further, until he hooks his fingers over the band of Nijimura’s sweatpants. “I’ll just help myself.”

His cock twitches at the sudden rush of cold air when Akashi pulls the front of his sweat pants down. Then, it’s replaced by Akashi’s cold fingers.

Akashi angles his head to press an open-mouthed kiss against the base, fleeting and gentle.

“Oh  _ god _ .” 

Akashi smiles a little, eyes glinting. His tongue is warm and slick, molding firmly against the skin of his cock. There’s the barest hint of pressure from his teeth. 

“Not quite my name, try again.” 

“You think you’re so smart—” Akashi takes the head of his cock into his mouth and tongues his slit especially hard. Nijimura snags the futon sheet under a tight grip and lets out a sharp gasp.  _ “Fuck you _ .”

The wet warmth withdraws and it’s Akashi’s clammy fingers slicking down his length with leisurely strokes. “That’s always been the plan, hasn’t it?”

“Talking too much,” Nijimura growls, burying rough fingers into Akashi’s hair and pushing him down. Akashi just hums in response, eagerly hollowing his mouth so he can swallow as much of him as he can.

It takes a while for Akashi to settle into a steady rhythm. Often times, he has to adjust when his teeth accidentally scrapes the underside of Nijimura’s cock.

“You’ve gotten better since the last time,” Nijimura breathes, brushing back fiery locks of hair so he can see Akashi’s eyes. They’re closed; of course.

Nijimura could come like this, to the sound of Akashi’s mouth and his cock squelching in a hot mess, and he almost does. Nijimura is already feeling the burn growing in his lower abdomen, his skin trembling for release. 

Akashi breaks the rhythm and pulls away. Nijimura makes a reluctant noise in the back of his throat, but opens his eyes curiously at the loss of heat and sound of cloth rustling. 

Akashi is leaning over him again, arms resting on either sides of him. His cheeks are flushed and his lips are swollen. The golden light sculpts his features beautifully and Nijimura’s heart is stolen away again.

He reaches to sink his fingers into Akashi’s milky thighs, but Akashi tuts, catching his wrists and pressing them back against the pillows.

“Didn’t I say that you don’t need to do anything?”

Nijimura flexes his fingers a little. If he wanted to, he could knock Akashi off, take his hands and pin them down under his weight. In a contest of strength and weight, Akashi wouldn’t be able to win. (At least not fairly.) 

After a moment, Akashi releases his hands. Before Nijimura could even think of doing anything, he warns, “Don’t.”  _ or I’m leaving _ . 

Except Akashi doesn’t really need to voice his threats; Nijimura knows when he needs to listen. 

Content that Nijimura’s keeping his hands to himself, Akashi moves again. He shifts forward carefully, enough to move his weight over the front of Nijimura's cock, and then back, rocking slowly, deliberately. 

He’s rubbing his cock against his, and the friction is hot and sticky with a mixture of spit and precum.

Nijimura swallows a moan, hips raising instinctively to grind up; the ache between his legs is desperate for some kind of release.

“Fucking hell, where did you even get this idea—” His sentence is choked off when Nijimura feels his cock dip between the curve of Akashi’s ass, slicking up his perenium and to his entrance. 

Akashi smiles infuriatingly calm, though his quiet gasps for air betray him. “Aomine suggested it.” 

The thought that Akashi keeps in contact with the blue headed powrforward is a surprise. The thought that they discuss sex tips and techniques — he may need a bit more time to digest that.

“Aomine advised I practiced on a pillow first, the videos he's recommended featured—”

“All right, shut up, I don’t wanna hear the details. It’s such a turn off.”

“You did ask,” Akashi says, rolling his hips and pressing teasingly against Nijimura’s cock. The pressure makes him shudder and there is a visible tremble running up his thigh. “And you’re still hard, Nijimura- _ senpai. _ ”

Nijimura cups Akashi’s face with a hand, pressing his thumb past his lips and sinking into his tongue. It's wet and hot and he desperately misses the feeling of it being wrapped around his cock. “Why don’t you shut up for a bit, Akashi.”

If Akashi’s face is also off limits, he’d bite him and say so. But Akashi lets his eyes flutter shut as he starts sucking his finger, tongue wrapping around his knuckle.

His mouth is hot and the vibrations of his moans send electricity shooting straight to his groin. 

_ That’s not fair. _

Nijimura is about to pull his hand away but Akashi has a grip clasped around his wrist. He nips the center of his palm, suggestively licks up a finger.

Then, he lets go.

Akashi leans his entire body against Nijimura’s chest, an arm reaching up past his head, lips tickling against his. Nijimura winces a little at the brush of Akashi’s weight on his gauze, but the pain is dispelled when Akashi whispers, “Remember to be good, Nijimura-san.” 

And then kisses him. This kiss is slow, purposeful, and Nijimura enjoys the softness and fullness of Akashi’s lips as their mouths meld together.

It’s not enough; not when his cock is straining underneath Akashi’s weight and he’s stopped moving. The heat between their bodies is intoxicating and  _ burning _ despite Akashi’s skin being a touch cold.

And that’s what stirs him— Nijimura wants to  _ touch. _ He wants to drag his hands across the smoothness of Akashi’s thighs; he wants to thumb and flick at the dips and curves of his body, to push his shirt up and pinch his pert nipples, maybe tug at them a little too. He wants Akashi to burn under his hands and Akashi isn’t letting him.

Or rather, he’s letting Akashi not let him.

What a fucking turn of events. (Honestly, maybe despite what everyone suggests, Nijimura is actually a masochist. Or both.)

Akashi pulls his lips away and Nijimura chases hungrily but Akashi’s withdrawn far enough that he can’t reach. 

“Please wait for a moment, Nijimura-san.” 

He’s not entirely sure what he’s waiting for, but he obliges, resting his head against the pillows and peering at Akashi curiously.

Then, he hears a very familiar popping sound of a cap flicking open, and,  _ oh. _

Akashi gratuitously spreads lube on his palm before coating Nijimura’s cock with it. Nijimura shivers as the cold liquid gradually warms up with each flick of Akashi’s wrist. 

It doesn’t take long for Nijimura to be aroused and breathless again, and his head is swimming in a dizzying heat as Akashi positions himself, one hand on Nijimura’s cock, and sinks—

“Wait,  _ wait _ .”

Nijimura fastens his hands around Akashi’s hips, holding him in place. Akashi looks at him, startled. 

He’s opening his mouth— no doubt to say something about Nijimura touching him, but this is important. 

“You need to prepare yourself or it’s going to hurt,” Nijimura says, easing Akashi off him and back onto his lap. 

“I— oh.” Akashi looks sheepish as he reaches for the bottle again. “It slipped my mind.”

“Well, it happens,” Nijimura agrees, hungrily watching Akashi coat his fingers before Akashi meets his gaze, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Nijimura-san, your hands.”

“Right, sorry.” He lets go and pulls them away from his hips; he tucks them back to his sides with all the will he can muster “Go ahead.”

Akashi leans forward again, this time, carefully avoiding Nijimura’s injury. 

He twists his arm behind his back, and drops his forehead against Nijimura’s chest. Akashi’s shoulders are shaking and Nijimura’s cock twitches when a bead of cold and wet dribbles down his shaft. 

Nijimura breathes, “I want to see you finger yourself.”

A rush of hot air hits his chest and Akashi lets out a strangled sigh. “Must you say things so lewdly?”

“I’m just stating the obvious.” 

Akashi doesn’t deign to respond, or maybe he can’t. Nijimura feels a damp spot growing on his chest from where Akashi is breathing harshly, and  _ god damn _ , he wants to break the words binding his arms to his side and spread Akashi’s thighs farther apart, wants his fingers scissoring him open, instead.

Nijimura is a man of many wants.

He also wants to know. “How many fingers?”

Throwing the question into the wind and hoping Akashi indulges him. 

He does. “One.”

“That’s not enough,” Nijimura says, and risks lifting one of his hands to gently cup the back of Akashi’s head. He lets it rest there, fingers tangling into red hair.

Akashi doesn’t say anything about it, so he guesses this is okay too. 

They lie there in silence for a while, Nijimura content with dragging his fingers down Akashi’s scalp. If he listens hard enough, he could hear the faint sound of wet finger(s?) being sucked in and out.

He speaks up again, “You know I’m bigger than a finger, right?”

“It takes time, Nijimura-san.”

There’s the barest hint of frustration in his voice, but only since he’s working at it on his own. Nijimura doubts that Akashi has even thought about fingering himself prior to this moment.

It’s almost cute. (Almost? Nah, it’s really cute. Akashi is such a virgin olive oil.)

“I’m deflating over here.”

He feels Akashi’s other hand digging into the skin on his chest. His nails scratching as a warning. “ _ Nijimura-san _ .”

“All right, all right, take as long as you need. No rush.” 

Nijimura lets his eyes wander to the ceiling in hopes of distracting himself from this agonizing wait. He likes math; something is calming about crunching numbers and achieving results. 

Lucky for him, the ceiling is divided into panels, with faint nicks in them as patterns. He could probably count how many corners there are in his dorm room ceiling. 

Someone should award him for his amazing self-control; after all, he’s doing absolutely nothing when there’s such a delicious meal laid out, literally, right on top of him.

Then, Nijimura belatedly realizes: Akashi dodged his question earlier. He’s always been good at that, damn cheeky. 

He clears his throat and tries again, “Can I watch you finger yourself?”

He hears Akashi exhale a labored breath; he probably intended for it to sound like a suffering sigh. It comes out sounding like a needy whimper instead. “You’re watching now, aren’t you?”

Gently, Nijimura slips his fingers underneath Akashi’s chin, nudging them upwards. “Yeah, but I want to  _ see  _ you.”

Akashi shakes his head and keeps his chin tucked; he’s still stubborn about it. “It’s—  _ haa…  _ nothing to be excited about.”

“You’re fingering yourself, I am more than excited. Anyone would be excited if their cute lover is finger fucking themselves—”

“ _ Please _ stop talking.”

He obeys, humming slightly as he gazes at the corner of his room. Nijimura lets his knuckles drift down Akashi’s neck, past his shirt collar, and down his spine, feeling him sharply inhale at the contact. Come to think of it, Akashi’s neck is sensitive, among many others places on his body.

He’ll have to tease it mercilessly later.

Nijimura stops his hand short of Akashi’s hips, resting it ever lightly so that he can catch every tremor coursing over his skin. 

“Need me to help you speed things along?”

“ _ Three _ .”

Akashi can be amazingly steadfast to some things; sometimes, childishly so. (Which makes the two of them, actually.)

Nijimura shifts, a little impatient. He  _ did  _ say he’d wait, but it feels like an hour’s passed. The cold air is chilling his nether regions, and  _ Nijimura-san _ is being neglected.

Akashi lets out a puff of air and  _ finally  _ moves, pulling himself upright with shaky arms. Nijimura grunts in surprise as the weight returns to cover his cock.

Nijimura's about to make some snarky comment, something like _About time_ , but then Akashi’s slim fingers wrap around his erection, stroking with long, firm movements to return him to full hardness. Nijimura swears a little when Akashi positions it underneath him. 

Akashi’s face is flushed, Nijimura notices, eyes half-closed in a haze as he bites down on his lip. He experimentally rubs the tip against his puckered hole, and Nijimura resists from thrusting then and there.

Akashi clenches his eyes shut as he presses  _ down. _

Nijimura has learned his lesson about expectations and having high hopes, but maybe,  _ maybe, _ Akashi forgot that he’s on display under Nijimura’s eager gaze, and god what a sight it is.

There’s a light sheen of sweat on Akashi’s body and the skin on his legs are flushed pink. Nijimura has much to say about the shirt Akashi is wearing, no doubt for modesty, as it’s hiding his cute nipples and hard on. 

He wants to pull his shirt off, wants to see Akashi’s cock bouncing when he jerks his hips to a desperate rhythm, but beggars can’t be choosers.

It takes a while for Akashi to seat himself completely on Nijimura’s lap and Nijimura’s thoughts are sent to oblivion. 

It’s unbearably tight. Hot.

Nijimura hisses through his teeth when Akashi clenches around him. It was obviously  _ not  _ three fingers and he was definitely not prepared enough.

He carefully watches Akashi’s face, willing himself to not move until the other was ready and adjusted. 

There’s something different about all this, and it’s not the fact that Akashi chose to take initiative to ride him today. That itself is pretty surprising but not outside of the list of things Akashi would do.

Nijimura wracks his brain for an explanation to this niggling thought, but he can’t think properly when Akashi’s eyes flutter open to look down on him, all reasoning lost to carnal hunger.

“God,” Nijimura breathes, and he might as well be worshipping Akashi as if he  _ was  _ God.

Akashi lets out a quiet, airy gasp as he hoists himself up before sinking down again.

Nijimura set his hands on Akashi’s thighs, feeling the flex of muscles with each motion.

His ass is so tight, and suffocating. He could feel Akashi’s insides twitch minutely; he could feel his hole pulsing as it clenches involuntarily every time his cock is pushed in and pulled out.

Nijimura doesn’t think he’ll be able to last long like this. Give him three minutes, and he’ll be shooting his cum into—

_ Condom _ .

His breath stutters at the realization.

_ Where’s the condom _ — Nijimura drops his head against the pillows when Akashi gains both newfound confidence and tempo, lifting himself up more than a few inches before swallowing him completely.

_ Fuck. _

_ Oh fuck. _

_ Fuck, fuck, he’s fucked. _

_ That  _ answers why it feels so different. So good.

Akashi is dragging out every breath from Nijimura’s lungs and not giving him the chance to even breathe _.  _

“Akashi,” he gasps, hands sliding up Akashi’s waist and holding him there, forcing him still. He could thrust into him right now, make Akashi wail at the pressure against his prostate, but  _ wait. _ “Stop for a minute.”

Akashi’s breath is heavy and there’s a sheen of moisture on his lips as he stops. It takes a while for his sharp eyes to refocus, but when he gazes at him, he looks lost and confused. “What’s wrong? Am I not doing it properly?” 

“Fuck no, you’re doing great,” Nijimura breathes reassuringly, sitting up a little so he could at least look Akashi seriously in the eyes. “But are you sure you—” His voice breaks for a moment when Akashi  _ tightens _ . “Do you really want it like this?”

Akashi looks even more confused, and  _ hurt _ . “What do you mean?”

Mentally kicking himself for giving him the wrong idea, Nijimura clears his throat. “I meant barebacking.” 

_ Stupid _ , Akashi wouldn’t know what that means. “Condom. I’m not— you didn’t put one on me.”

Akashi stares at him, his blank expression slowly coloring red before he’s flushing dark enough to match the color of his hair in the dim light. He breaks eye contact and looks away.

Nijimura blinks in wonder.

Did Akashi—  _ forget _ ? Like how he forgot he had to prepare himself before taking Nijimura in? Nijimura wouldn’t put it past him seeing how that anything Akashi is doing now would be his first time.

Akashi seldom makes mistakes, but it’s oddly refreshing seeing him like this. Embarrassed to the tips of his ears, hand reaching up to cover his mouth. It makes him feel more human, more reachable. 

It’s oddly endearing. 

But as much as he enjoys watching Akashi panic over a slight mistake, Nijimura is older and the more experienced of the two.

He needs to do damage control.

“It’s fine either way,” Nijimura says, rubbing Akashi’s cold thighs with his hands. His voice is low and soft. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable if I come inside you. Or— I could pull out before that happens. Whatever you want.”

Akashi’s in control after all; this is his show he’s running.

“All right?” Nijimura prompts, guiding Akashi to move again. The other’s face is still red, though he’s looking considerably less mortified, and drops his hands to grip Nijimura’s wrists, steadying himself.

Half of him wonders if Akashi would tear himself off and run back to his room, leaving Nijimura helplessly hard and lying on a futon and mountain of pillows. But Akashi nods and sends that thought to rest. 

“Yes, all right,” Akashi says with a breath of air, unknotting the furrow between his brows.

It takes a moment before he finds his pace again, lifting his weight before rocking back down. Nijimura helps him with that, dragging his hands to his ass and squeezing it under his grasp. 

Nijimura wants to memorize everything about Akashi in this moment, the way his body jerks when Nijimura thrusts up into him when he falls, the way the muscles in his thighs move under his skin. 

It still irritates him that Akashi has his shirt on, it’s hot and chafing. He chances to let his hands roam again, to push the dark fabric up and bunch it over his chest.

Akashi’s cock is swollen and Nijimura makes a pleased noise at that. He reminds himself to revisit it after playing with the rest of his body.

“Nijimura-san,” Akashi whimpers when Nijimura runs his thumbs over his nipples, flicking it lightly before rubbing slow and light circles. Akashi’s rapid pulse flutters underneath his hand.

“You like it when I touch you here, yeah?” he asks, pinching them gently, earning a shuddered gasp. Akashi’s momentum is disrupted, his head falling listlessly to his chest. 

He gives one of them a firm tug, enjoying Akashi’s startled cry. Sweat is starting to glisten on his face. “Akashi, why’d you stop? I thought you wanted to do this.”

Akashi shakes his head, chest heaving for air. “Because you—” he gasps and doesn’t continue that line of thought. Instead, he resumes his movements, although with shaky legs.

Nijimura eyes Akashi’s cock; it’s shaking with every movement and dripping a mess of precum onto his abdomen.

“Because I what?” He presses his thumb against Akashi’s cock, massaging his slit and rubbing in slow, tantalizing circles. Akashi’s body collapses suddenly, his ass clamping down on Nijimura with a pleasurable pressure. 

Oops. Nijimura pushed his luck too far. 

It takes a moment for the tremors in Akashi’s body to subside but when it does, Nijimura is met with a glare.

“Nijimura-san, what did I say?” He tries to sound menacing, but there’s no bite to his bark.

Nijimura lifts his hands away, holding it up so Akashi can see. “I’m not doing anything.”

Akashi narrows his eyes at him for a moment, before he rocks his hips again. 

Nijimura takes to watching Akashi’s expression flit, from concentration to pleasure; his eyebrows are relaxed, mouth parting and panting wet gasps.

It’s not enough.

Sure, it  _ feels  _ good, but Nijimura doesn’t like this one-sided treatment. It’s endearing that Akashi is doing this for him but he wants Akashi to feel good too.

To feel better.

To come just from having his ass pounded.

And to get to that point, it’s going to take a lot more than Akashi  _ just  _ riding his dick at this leisurely gramma pace. (He’s trying his best, really; and Akashi could be the worst at this in the world, and Nijimura would still love him for it.)

Idly, Nijimura wonders if he can fuck Akashi until he can’t get off on his own without Nijimura’s cock buried deep inside him.

Ah, yes. Nijimura is, indeed, a considerate (sadistic) lover. 

“How is it?” Akashi asks, breaking Nijimura from his train of thought. There’s a flush on his cheeks and an— odd expression.

Nijimura grunts, restless hands climbing their way up Akashi’s thighs again.

“It’s good,” he hums, fingers playing with the curvature of his hip bones. It could be better if Akashi really felt it too.

Akashi’s cock looks so plump and tempting; Nijimura also really wants to stroke him off.  _ No touching, _ he remembers with a twitch in his lip.

How does he get around this. 

Another look passes over Akashi’s face, “Are you close?”

_ No.  _ “I wonder,” he replies, distracted. It’s not an answer, not really, and he can feel Akashi’s hips stilling a little. 

When Nijimura looks at him curiously, Akashi is crest-fallen.

Ah.

“I want you to feel good too,” Nijimura offers, hands wandering to Akashi’s behind, squeezing lightly.

“Yes, but I don’t want you to strain yourself,” Akashi explains, and oh, isn’t that adorable. Akashi giving him full service because of an injury.

Though, really. He could tell what kind of porn Akashi watched (researched) to achieve this lackluster performance.

There are other ways to ride someone, and Nijimura prefers it at an angle. It’s shallow and he won’t have the satisfaction of thrusting his cock from base to tip, but it’d let him fuck the other faster, harder. 

He’ll have to teach him, but Akashi won’t take too well with discovering that he’s been doing it “wrong.” 

Nijimura makes a thoughtful noise in his throat as he spreads Akashi’s ass around his cock. A wandering finger rubs along his entrance.

“How about— I stay like this,” he assures. With a sudden jerk of his hips, he thrusts into him, satisfied with the way Akashi’s mouth falls open with a gasp. “Let me touch you.” 

It’s not easy for Akashi to concede but he does, eyes falling shut as he pulls Nijimura’s hands from his behind to his hips.

“Do as you like, Nijimura-san.” 

Perfect.

“Music to my ears, honestly,” Nijimura says, grinning, as he guides Akashi above him, experimentally rolling his hips with him. Akashi’s breath stutters as a flush crawls over his face. That’s just too easy.

“Move with me.”

Nijimura anchors his grip and pulls Akashi with him. He fucks him slowly at first, keeping a watchful eye on Akashi’s face for any changes in expression. There’s an obvious difference from his passive gaze not long ago, and now his eyebrows are furrowed. He’s really feeling it.

“Yeah, like that, roll your hips like that. Good,” Nijimura praises. It doesn’t take long for Akashi to master it, his hands pressing against Nijimura’s chest for support. 

Nijimura swears at the sting of nails in his pecs. 

Nijimura has always been vocal during sex, grunting and groaning. His mouth is also utterly disgusting and his train of thought even more so. 

His hips pick up speed and Akashi lets a weak and breathy whine escape him. Akashi, for the most part, is silent, choosing to gasp or breathe instead of vocalizing. Nijimura finds it a challenge to get him to talk. 

“Why’re you so quiet, Akashi?” Nijimura asks, forcing him down hard enough for their skin to clap noisily. “Are you scared of the neighbors hearing us?”

Akashi is also not above being goaded.

“I’m— not,  _ ah, ah— _ ” Akashi swallows his words, shrinking suddenly when Nijimura hits a particular spot.

He does it again, and again, thrusting harder each time until he set a rhythm where Akashi is just working himself desperately on his cock, shunting himself up and down his shaft, his mouth fallen open to a crescendo of moans. His erection glides across Nijimura’s abdomen helplessly, untouched.

“Ahh— haa, Niji—” 

“You look so pretty, Akashi,” Nijimura says, breath labored, taking Akashi’s cock into his hand. He rewards him with a generous squeeze. “Fucking yourself on my cock. Do you like how it feels?”

Akashi manages to nod, his mouth falling open into a quiet, airy moan, “ _ Ah— _ yes,  _ yes, ah _ —”

“Where?” he prompts, slowing his hips to watch him move weakly on his own. “Tell me where you like it.”

Akashi’s eyes squeeze tight as he whimpers. “I-Inside. It's good—  _ ah _ ,  feels— good.”

There’s much room for improvement when it comes to eliciting any kind of response from Akashi. Akashi, who’s annoyingly eloquent in all situations except when he’s getting fucked, apparently. 

Nijimura takes what he can get. 

“Yeah,” Nijimura says, smiling a little as he resumes his pace. “Me too, I like it when you’re squeezing me down there. When you’re so desperate for me to fuck you hard and senseless.”

Nijimura had been careful with his foul mouth the first few times with fear that Akashi would turn bright pink and shy away. 

But thankfully, it seems to do wonders on Akashi’s body now, dragging a breathy moan from his lips in response; his insides twitch around him.

“You’re being such a good boy today, Akashi. You prepared everything for me, didn’t you,” Nijimura says, voice soft and fond. “Shall I reward you?”

He starts fondling Akashi’s cock in his hand, pulling it in rhythm with each thrust. His ass tightens considerably and Nijimura swears. 

Sex feels different without a condom— the pressure clamping down was definitely all Akashi, the sudden squeeze when Nijimura changes the angle just so, turning Akashi’s boneless and at his mercy.

His abdomen is tensing and he could feel the rise of an orgasm just mere seconds away. With the way Akashi is moaning loudly and shamelessly whenever his cock hits deep and hard against his prostate, Nijimura would be surprised if he lasted longer than he did.

“Akashi, I’m close,” he growls, voice hoarse and all ways broken when his thrusts becomes erratic. Akashi just limply nods in agreement, leaning forward to press his palms into Nijimura’s shoulders. Like this, Nijimura could see  _ everything _ . The haze in his eyes, the red flush on his cheeks, his lips are full and red. “What do you want me to do. Where do you want my cum?” 

“Inside—” The obscene sound of skin on skin is louder than his choked whines. “You can, come inside, Nijimura-san,  _ ah— _ ”

_ Holy shit. _

Akashi’s answer almost sends him over the edge; but he catches himself, grinding his teeth together and thinks  _ other  _ things so he doesn't orgasm before Akashi does.

Akashi is clenching tightly around him, and Nijimura can feel him at the crest before he plunges. Not bad for only taking it in his ass. He’ll have to prod at Akashi’s prostate later.

“Come for me, Akashi,” he commands, taking Akashi’s leaking cock in his hand again. He mercilessly strokes him as the other continues with his sloppy movements.

It doesn’t take three strokes before he comes.

“Nijimura-san—” Akashi cries breathlessly, hips jerking to get away from Nijimura’s persistent hand on his cock, but Nijimura is thorough if not ruthless, intent with making sure Akashi comes completely.

With light, fast strokes, Akashi crumples over him in his orgasm, muscles pulling taut as a wet warmth empties over his chest between them. He’s sensitive, scratching at Nijimura to stop. His cries are deliciously broken. “I can’t, Nijimura-san— ahh,  _ aah _ — I’m—” 

“Just hold on,” he grounds out, letting himself get swept by the tight wet heat. His cock swells up as he comes hard, burying himself deep inside his ass with a few, hard thrusts.

Akashi lets out a strangled, choked cry, thrashing as Nijimura continues to roll his hips into him, forcing out a mixture of cum and remnants of lube as he hits into Akashi’s abused prostrate.

Akashi falls limp on him, body twitching in the aftermath. Nijimura even forgot he had a bandage on him as he breathes a quiet sigh in their post-orgasm haze.

Carefully, Nijimura pulls himself out, making sure to not disrupt Akashi on him. He lets out a slow hiss, feeling the pressure let up from his cock.

He observes a drip of cum trailing down Akashi’s thighs. Kinky, but messy. They’ll have to clean up after this, since Akashi has cum inside him and Nijimura has cum on him. 

Nijimura doesn’t feel like moving though. 

After a while, Akashi shifts, carefully rolling off to the side away from Nijimura’s bandage. Nijimura lets out a slight breath of relief before he reaches a hand to rub Akashi’s back through the shirt he didn’t take off. 

“How are you holding up?”

Akashi takes a few moments to blink, eyes gaining clarity and focus. His gaze flickers up at Nijimura’s face. “My throat is dry.”

“No kidding,” Nijimura says. He leans close to kiss him on the lips, lingering. And realizes that as much as he enjoyed Akashi riding him, he didn’t get to kiss him at all. He presses closer, working his lips against his, sucking on his lower lip gently before running his tongue between them. 

Akashi responds shyly, opening his mouth to let him taste him. His tongue prods at Nijimura’s mouth, testing, teasing. 

Eventually, Nijimura pulls away, and Akashi watches him expectantly.

“We shouldn’t.” Nijimura answers his gaze with a soft kiss on the nose. “You have your student council meeting tomorrow. You have to be able to at least  _ walk  _ there.”

“I’ve always walked fine,” Akashi says, indignant, sitting up. He makes a slight tsk at his mess of a shirt.

“Yeah?” Nijimura doesn’t bother telling Akashi that the difference between today and all the last few times, is that he  _ rode  _ him. That’s added muscle work to his legs, on top of an hour of brutal squats and lunges during practice. “Don’t blame me when you find out you can’t.”

Akashi starts instinctively looking for his clothes. He finds his overnight bag at the door where he last left it.

It's quite a show watching Akashi try to get on his feet, and Ni jimura snorts just as Akashi literally finds himself stumbling back onto the futon. His perky ass jutting up in the air, what a view.

“See what I told you?” Nijimura says, sitting up. He slaps Akashi’s right ass cheek lightly, before spreading them so he could press at his pink entrance. Akashi makes an undignified yelp at that. “Look, it’s leaking.”

“Who’s fau—”

“Yours,” Nijimura hums. He had expected Akashi to clamber up from such an embarrassing position, but he hasn’t moved yet.

Nijimura plays along, pressing down gently and letting his hole's natural suction pull his finger in. It always amazes him how tight it still is after taking all of him. “It’s all sticky and warm inside. Maybe we should keep to using condoms, yeah?”

“No, it’s—” Akashi’s voice comes out sharper than he expected and he’s taken aback by it. Akashi smooths his tone, turning slightly to glance at Nijimura. “It’s fine.”

Nijimura blinks in surprise, pulling out his finger. Akashi likes doing it raw. 

_ He likes doing it raw. _

He files that bit of information for another day as he rolls to his side and stands up. He offers his hand and does this show of a dramatic bow. “Shall I carry you to the bath, obocchan?”

Akashi gives him a look; he’s always hated the implications behind the nickname but Nijimura gets a kick out of teasing him with it anyways.

“I can walk,” he says, insistent, though snags onto Nijimura’s proffered hand. Akashi isn’t shy about having Nijimura bridal carry him when he wants to be carried, though it’s probably the fact that his cum was all over Nijimura’s chest making him hesitate.

Nijimura doesn’t see a problem with it, they’re going to wash up anyways.

“You’re definitely gonna feel it tomorrow,” Nijimura comments as he watches Akashi take staggering, purposeful steps. 

“I’ll worry about tomorrow,  _ tomorrow. _ ”

“What a bold declaration,” Nijimura comments, kissing him on the forehead.

 

 

 

“Nijimura-san, I’ve been wondering,” Akashi starts over the rumble of hot water filtering into the tub. He’s sitting on the toilet seat, waiting for the tub to fill. “You’re not new to these things, are you? You’re a lot more experienced than I thought you’d be.”

Nijimura is in the middle of pulling off his sweatpants when he catches Akashi’s stare. He’s being serious, and curious. 

He’s never told Akashi about his recent experimental days in America, of hot summer days spent kissing girls and boys, only to find out he liked the latter more. Of taking strangers that were small and slender to bed, pretending it was a certain redhead instead.

“I wouldn’t say I’m  _ experienced, _ but I’ve done it before,” Nijimura says carefully, tossing his folded clothes out into the laundry basket. He kneels in front of Akashi, making quick work of unbuttoning his shirt.

“So you’ve fornicated with someone else?”

Forni— leave it to Akashi to use absolutely unsexy words.

Nijimura feels his cheeks burn a little at being asked so frankly about it. “Yeah.”

Nijimura peels his shirt off his back for him; it feels like he’s undressing a doll.

“How was it?”

“Not that great since it was more of a fling. It was mostly curiosity, y’know.” 

“I see…”

Nijimura stands up, tossing his shirt into the hamper before he feels cold fingers pressing around the gauze on his bandage.

Akashi is carefully taking it apart for him. Nijimura appreciates the gesture; he’d probably tear it off carelessly. 

“How many people—”

“Okay.” Nijimura pokes him in the forehead. “Too many questions, brat. If you're worried about anything, don't be, cus’ I'm clean, all right?”

The confused stare Akashi gives him is rather telling that  _ that  _ was not on mind. Nijimura continues, “Besides, the past is in the past. I’m here, aren’t I?”  _ With you _ , goes unsaid. 

Akashi looks up at him when the gauze is removed. There’s something different in his eyes and it’s an expression Nijimura hasn’t seen before. Insecurity and doubt, Nijimura wonders if it’s about him, or them. 

But it’s gone the next instant as Akashi throws away the gauze and stands up.

“Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! If you did, I'd appreciate a comment, ufufu. 
> 
> And as always, stay thirsty, my friends.


End file.
